


A Night in Mr Kim's Parlour

by The_Consulting_Werewolf



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 04:07:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Consulting_Werewolf/pseuds/The_Consulting_Werewolf
Summary: Junmyeon will always be Yifan's calm, even if the latter isn't aware of it.





	A Night in Mr Kim's Parlour

**Author's Note:**

> ok, I have been binge watching Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries and the wonderful chemistry between Miss Fisher and DI Robinson made me wonder "what about them, but in Krisho?" and honestly, I don't know if I want to fic it properly, so I leave you with an angsty, confusing one-shot. :))))))))))

Yifan steps into the parlour, and despite the storm inside his head, he still finds his breath getting caught in his lungs at the scene in front of him.

Junmyeon is seated on the burgundy chaise, with his arms draped over it, his emerald green silk robe slipping over one shoulder. He has his knees folded and the robe splits down his thigh, revealing one bare knee, and the smooth curve of his calf. He has his face turned to the fire, the orange glow tinting his pale skin golden. The contrast of his wine-red hair against the robe and orange glow makes him look untouchable, ethereal, like a beautiful, mythical creature Yifan can never reach.

Junmyeon finally feels the presence of another person and he turns his head, and his eyes widen before a smile slowly makes its way on his face. He exhales, “Detective inspector Wu!” But then his smile drops when he notices the forlorn look in Yifan’s eyes. He extends a hand and calls out, “Mr Lee! Bring the detective a stiff drink!” He extends a hand towards Yifan and asks, “Are you okay?”

Yifan crumbles; Junmyeon’s eyes are gentle and he can see the concern in them. He walks towards him, his steps heavy as he sits down on the chaise. He feels a warm hand on his shoulder and he sighs. Junmyeon asks again, “Are you alright Yifan?”

Yifan shakes his head. Mr Lee enters the parlour with a tray; Junmyeon picks up the two glasses of scotch and hands one to Yifan, who takes it with a wry smile. Mr Lee also puts the decanter down and bows as he leaves the room. He downs the entire content in one gulp and Junmyeon, who takes a tiny sip, raises his eyebrows in worry and says, “I take it the meeting didn’t go well?”

Yifan looks at him in confusion, “You knew?”

Junmyeon smirks, all secretive. “Of course, I do. Constable Oh isn’t very good at secrets.”

Yifan chuckles, a bit sardonic, “I am not surprised at that.” He falls against the cushions and continues, “Yoona really doesn’t want a reconciliation.”

Junmyeon bites his lip as he pours Yifan another drink. His heart thuds uncomfortably; he feels guilty at the elation he feels, which he really shouldn’t. Yifan is not meant for him, no matter how hard he wishes to be. When Yifan downs the second drink, wincing slightly at the burn of the alcohol going down his throat. Junmyeon watches Yifan, his sagged shoulder, his defeated posture, and the hurt in his eyes. He loves his wife, he really does so, so much and sometimes it makes Junmyeon see green with envy. If only Yoona would understand that he would give an arm, a leg, all his organs to be in her place, to be loved so selflessly by Yifan.

Junmyeon downs the rest of the content in his glass and tears spring to his eyes. Mr Lee must have cracked open one of the bottles they got from their British client that day. With the handsome amount he got, Mr Robinson paid in kind as well. And it tickles Junmyeon since it was such an inherently easy mystery to solve. Anyway, right now, he pours himself another drink and ponders about the futility of being in love with a heterosexual man. He looks over at Yifan again, his jaw clenched as the fire dances and the shadows flitters across his face. Junmyeon hardly as any control over his limbs as he reaches to cup Yifan’s jaw.

Yifan startles a little, but looks at Junmyeon, his eyes tired. Junmyeon says, his voice soft, “Your entire body is radiating tension. Let me, okay?” Yifan nods and Junmyeon kneels on the sofa as he presses his fingers into Yifan’s back and gently kneads the muscles there. “Hm, so many knots here.” He presses his knuckles into the lower trap muscle and Yifan sighs, closing his eyes, leaning into Junmyeon, who holds back his gasp. Yifan whispers, “I am tired.”

“Then,” Junmyeon mutters, as his fingers make their way up Yifan’s nape and into his hair, “Sleep.”

Yifan slumps sideways and Junmyeon doesn’t get to move to make him space. Yifan pulls his feet up and with almost half of his upper body on Junmyeon’s lap, he closes his eyes, letting the emotional drain of the day catch up with him. The silk of the robe is soft under his cheek and Junmyeon smells like lemons, and it doesn’t take him too long to just give in to sleep.

Junmyeon keeps lightly massaging his shoulders until Yifan falls asleep, deeply. He smiles, his heart swelling with affection. He puts a hand over Yifan’s head, brushing the bangs of his forehead, while his other hand strokes his neck. He undoes the tie around Yifan’s neck, and unbuttons the first two buttons of his shirt.

Suddenly, he hears the parlour door opening and he looks up to see Yeri gazing at him, her questions unasked but obvious. Junmyeon puts his forefinger on his lips and shakes his head. Yeri whispers, “Will he be staying here tonight?”

“I think,” Junmyeon smiles as he looks down at Yifan, peacefully unconscious in his lap. He draws patterns on the side of Yifan’s neck as he says, “Look at him Yeri, the big, powerful detective inspector passed out on my lap, sleeping like a little child.”

Yeri knows how her employer feels for the detective. She pouts, “I wish you wouldn’t put yourself through such pain sir.”

Junmyeon smiles up at her, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s alright Yeri. I am okay.”

Yeri knows her employer is not okay, probably never will be, but she won’t comment on it. She steps outside the room and closes the door, taking great care to be as silent as possible.

 


End file.
